


Masque

by Philomytha



Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: Book: The Vor Game, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:01:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24403981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Philomytha/pseuds/Philomytha
Summary: Ivan had expected to have another month free before his mother returned from Komarr.
Comments: 55
Kudos: 204





	Masque

Ivan had expected to have another month free before his mother returned from Komarr. Another month of picking his own girlfriends and not being nagged about his career or his social duties or his dates or his laundry or anything at all. Instead, she was coming back early, and that was strange. Gregor was sick, according to the briefing memo he'd read at work, and that was strange because Gregor was almost never sick, not sick enough that he couldn't do his work. They wouldn't have come back for a cold. 

Uncle Aral was staying on Komarr, and that made sense, but Ivan had skimmed the whole memo, and saw that Captain Illyan was staying on Komarr with him, and that was strange too, because Illyan went where Gregor went. There was probably some really boring explanation, and Ivan didn't worry about it. Instead he worried about his mother. The last time she'd travelled with Gregor's entourage, a trip to the South Continent, he hadn't gone to visit as soon as she'd returned and she had lectured him for half an hour about respect and family duties. So this time he was ready, with flowers for his mother and a book-vid of a comic Earth novel for Gregor, and straight after work he'd gone to the Residence. 

He tracked his mother to Gregor's personal suite, got permission from the Armsman on duty and went in. 

"Welcome back," he said in his best socially cheerful tones. Mamere had her back to him, talking to one of the senior housekeepers; she made an impatient gesture at him and Ivan waited dutifully. Another minute and the housekeeper hurried off.

"You're back early," he went on, letting words flow smoothly the way Mamere had taught him as a technique to defuse tension. "I brought you flowers, and I've got something for Gregor too, if he's up to it. He must be feeling rotten to have to come all the way back so soon--"

Mamere turned around, and Ivan closed his mouth. Her face was taut with strain, eyes lined and shadowed even with her usual careful makeup. She looked old. Ivan offered the flowers uncertainly; she glanced at them and gave a smile that made her look even worse. Ivan edged backwards. "What is it?" he said, certain that whatever the answer was, he wouldn't like it. 

She looked at him measuringly, at the flowers, at the book-vid, at him, as if weighing him up. And finding him wanting, but that wasn't a surprise. 

"Gregor is missing," she said at last. "He vanished on Komarr. I have a double here, and I'll be sending him down to Surleau tomorrow to keep him out of sight. You'll be going with him." 

Ivan stared at her. Her face was too grim for him to doubt what he'd heard, much as he wanted to burst out with a fusillade of 'what? what? _what?_ '

"Oh," he said at last. "Oh." Which was still a stupid thing to say, but his mother didn't seem to notice. "What... happened?"

"We don't know. Captain Illyan's searching everywhere. It does not seem to have been an attack. Until we find him, we have to keep everything stable here." 

That 'until' rang in Ivan's mind. His mother's voice had been a little too steady on it, a little too firm, as if she was giving reality an instruction she expected it to follow. Ivan sincerely hoped reality would do as it was told. 

"Not an attack?" he said instead. 

His mother sighed. "I suppose you do need to know. He appears to have climbed down from the balcony of his suite at night and then taken deliberate action to evade ImpSec surveillance. Whether he was lured out or--or chose to leave for his own reasons..." She looked at him properly for the first time. "Do you know anything about this? He sometimes talks to you--I would not usually ask you to betray the Emperor's confidences, but this is an emergency--"

"He doesn't talk to me about _this_ ," Ivan said faintly. He knew why he'd climb down from a balcony and disappear, if he were Emperor, but who knew why Gregor did anything? Not Ivan, that's who. 

"No," his mother said, depressingly, "no, I suppose not." 

"Miles is offworld," Ivan said instead, spurred by the question of who Gregor would confide in. "He hasn't ended up on Komarr somehow, has he?" Because Miles coming up with some reason why Gregor had to climb down from a balcony and vanish by night without leaving word with anyone--well, that made sense, for Miles-level definitions of sense. Miles had masterminded several lesser escapes, in their teenage years. 

"Not to my knowledge. Nor Captain Illyan's. I only wish we were dealing with another of those stupid escapades, at least then we'd know--" She stopped, straightened up. "You may as well give _him_ the book-disc. Get to know him a bit. You're going to be part of the cover story. A holiday at Surleau, you've got leave from your CO. The Emperor has requested your company while he convalesces," she added, too grim to be ironic. 

"You can't send out orders in the Emperor's Voice," Ivan protested. "Not to my CO!" 

"I can, and I am doing so. This cover story must be solid. You'll be responsible for putting off anyone who goes down to visit him there, you'll have to manage the situation so as to keep him out of sight without arousing suspicion. He doesn't know what's happened, we've told him he's trying to decoy an assassin while Gregor remains on Komarr, so don't break cover around him. Occasionally I might need you to come up to town to take part in the usual round of events here, when we need an Imperial relative on hand." She hesitated, then went on, "Any other roles you may need to play will come later." 

Ivan swallowed. "But, Uncle Aral is the one who--" 

"It's possible they have found Gregor already and the news is going to come through imminently," his mother stated, lips flat. "Until then, you will do your duty, help me, and protect the Imperium." 

Ivan couldn't think of anything to say to that. He stared at his mother miserably, then handed her the flowers. She took them with another of those awful smiles. "These are very pretty, thank you," she said, because not even the end of the world would stop his mother deliberately setting him a good example of proper behaviour.

"I'm glad you like them," Ivan managed. She gave a little approving nod, then gestured towards the inner door. Ivan hesitated, then suddenly leaned in and hugged her. Mamere returned the embrace, her arm tight around him. 

"Go on," she murmured. "We all have to play our parts now, Ivan. I'll handle things here. Whatever happens, I know you will be fine." She punctuated her words with a little push on his shoulders in the direction of Gregor's private rooms, his marching orders. 

Ivan took a deep breath and rearranged his features, suppressing panic, letting amiable calm float back to the surface. This double, not-Gregor, wouldn't know him well enough to see anything else in his bearing, and even if he did, there was nothing strange in being worried about an assassination plot. He moved towards the door with the book-vid in hand, then looked back at his mother.

As a child Ivan had sat in his mother's dressing-room in the mornings and watched her put her makeup on, fascinated by the transformation from his mama's private face to the full glory of Lady Alys Vorpatril, the foremost lady in Vorbarr Sultana. The transformation he saw on her face now was even more complete, every drop of worry and fear and strain evaporating, not even a flicker in her eyes showing anything beyond Lady Alys at work as normal. She smiled briefly at him, as if testing out her mask, and it was so natural a smile that Ivan could almost have thought he'd imagined the last ten minutes. Ivan smiled back, taking care that his own expression showed nothing of the shiver that ran over his spine.


End file.
